“And if he’s the Butcher?” Nate challenged.

  She considered the question for a long moment. “Then I need to know that as well.”

  He could understand her desire to have those answers. What child wouldn’t want to comprehend why a parent would abandon her or him? He’d never asked but he was aware life had been difficult for Lara and her mother during the early years.

  Lara closed the album. “I should tell you about the email and text message I received last night.”

  Hearing the details, particularly considering the timing of the emails and the text from this ‘unsub’ didn’t sit well with Nate. He hadn’t worked a case in more than five years, but he wasn’t so rusty he didn’t see the correlation.

  “Let’s assume for a moment that he is your father and he’s known about you all along,” he offered. “Is there a follower who has been with you from the beginning? Maybe someone who has taken a bit of a personal interest? He might not even comment but he’s always there?”

  “I have a good number of dedicated followers, fortunately. I’d have to do some analyzing to narrow it down a bit. But I can do that if it’ll help.”

  Nate pushed aside the personal emotions that kept him from looking at this situation objectively. “Okay then, if we’re going to do this, we need to get a few things out of the way.”

  “Such as?”

  “We’ll need to tap your phone. Same with your computer and any other device you utilize on the net. You’ll be under surveillance.”

  “I can work with those conditions for a time. As long as the warrant for the taps is specific. I don’t want any of my followers to end up snared in some sort of broader search.”

  “I’ll make sure the warrant is specific. You’ll see it as well.”

  “All right. Will you be doing the surveillance?”

  He laughed. “I haven’t worked in the field for a while,” he reminded her. “You’ll want someone not so rusty.”

  A good agent always recognized his limitations.

  She shook her head. “No. You’re here. I know you. I want you.”

  As much as he appreciated hearing those words—they definitely stroked his ego—he didn’t want to be the reason she was hurt in whatever came next.

  “You wouldn’t be as safe with me, Lara,” he confessed.

  “But I want to be with you,” she said without hesitation. “I feel comfortable with you. If I’m going to do this, I need to be comfortable.” She lifted her chin and gave him a look that warned she would not change her mind. “Those are my terms. No negotiation.”

  “I’ll pass it along.” He couldn’t decide whether to indulge himself in her flattery or to be frustrated that she wasn’t hearing him.

  Maybe the answer was that he’d simply have to up his game.

  Lara’s safety could depend upon him.

  Chapter Four

  Beaumont Drive

  Nashville, Tennessee, Noon

  Lara had only met Rayna Wilson twice. At her mother’s funeral and at Rayna and Terry’s wedding. Growing up, Lara had known Rayna, but they hadn’t been friends. Though, looking back, it was surprising that they weren’t. Rayna was actually Dr. Rayna Wilson, assistant medical examiner of Davidson County. She and Lara had a good deal in common when it came to crime.

  The main difference was that Lara focused on the perpetrators of crime and Rayna on the victims.

  When Lara first returned to Maple Ridge the capture of an infamous serial killer was still the talk of Nashville. She’d done a two-part segment on Julian Addington. Like the Butcher, Addington had managed to elude authorities for decades.

  “It wasn’t necessary to go to all this trouble,” Lara said, feeling guilty for invading the Wilson home with the problems she hadn’t even known existed until a few hours ago.

  “We’re happy to have you here,” Rayna argued as she checked through the take-out bags that had been delivered moments ago. “It’s not like I cooked.”

  Lara smiled. She liked Rayna. She was quite blunt and, judging by her bio, nothing less than brilliant. Terry’s adoration for his wife of four years was obvious in the way he looked at her. They were expecting their first child, a boy, due in March. It seemed everyone Lara had known growing up had already started a family.

  Maybe she was behind the curve but that had never bothered her.

  Not until her mother died. It was the strangest feeling, being alone in the world. Except that might not be entirely true.

  Lara exiled the thoughts and produced a smile. “Still, we’ve interrupted your Saturday afternoon.”

  Rayna moved to the fridge. She glanced at Lara before opening the door. “Your mother never spoke of your father in any way that suggested he might not be who she’d thought he was?”

  Lara got it now. Her host was curious. Further verification that the two of them had much in common. “Never. My entire life, she presented my father as the military hero who died so very young.”

  Rayna settled a pitcher of tea on the island. “When an otherwise loving parent does that sort of thing, generally they think they’re protecting us. That’s assuming she was aware of any deception.”

  Whatever her reason for keeping his secret—assuming, as Rayna said, her mother was aware the man was still alive—protecting Lara would no doubt have been her motive. “I’m sure you’re familiar with the Butcher,” Lara said. There really was no question, but it seemed the right way to kick off that aspect of the conversation.

  Rayna’s eyebrows reared up. “Is there anyone who isn’t?”

  “Probably not,” Lara admitted. “I’d be very interested in hearing your thoughts on who he is and what motivates him?” Lara had plenty of feelings on the subject but, under the circumstances, she needed a more objective opinion. Rayna’s undergraduate work had focused on the criminal mind.

  Nate and Terry were in the living room, no doubt discussing how to ensure Lara’s protection around the clock. The FBI was sending two agents from the Nashville office to assist with the surveillance of her home. Terry would serve as lead in support from the sheriff’s department.

  All this fuss over her decision to do a segment on DNA and the genealogy craze. Lara’s head was still spinning.

  She abruptly felt like a stranger in her own skin. If only she hadn’t gone down that path…too late now.

  “Based on what little I know about his victims he’s at the top of the evil scale,” Rayna pointed out.

  “A torturer-murderer,” Lara said. She was familiar with the scale of evil used to measure the heinousness of criminals.

  “The killing isn’t what drives him,” Rayna went on. “It’s the torture.”

  The victims of the Butcher were viciously tortured. Deep inside Lara shuddered. Researching and presenting information on a particular subject was one thing, but to see that killer as a person—a father—was difficult.

  This was far too close to home.

  This was personal.

  “The real question for me,” Rayna settled drinking glasses on the island, “is why no particular type? It’s like anything goes.”

  This was a big question. Lara said, “I’m convinced there’s something about each victim that calls to him. We just don’t know what it is.” The one consistency in the Butcher case was simple: his only pattern was that he had no pattern. Making him all the more elusive.

  “He has a purpose,” Rayna agreed, her brow furrowed in thought. “Figuring out what that purpose is could make all the difference in catching him.”

  “He has no intention of making it easy,” Lara pointed out. “He strikes at random. When the mood hits him, it would seem.”

  Rayna nodded. “The urge. Considering the often-long periods of time between victims, it’s almost like he struggles mightily to fight the urge.”

  Did that make him any less evil?

  No. A killer was a killer.

  Lara nodded. “His work is well planned. Telling us that even after he can no longer control the urge, he restrains himself until he develops a careful strategy for the execution of his strike. No impulse kills. He’s very cautious.”

  Just another reason the idea that he’d left DNA evidence on not one, but two occasions felt more like the act of dangling a carrot to the police.

  Catch me if you can.

  Given the media coverage on the link between ancestry sites and crime data bases, why would he risk leaving behind evidence? Particularly if he knew he’d fathered a child? A child who ran a successful true crime blog. The concept made no sense.

  More likely, he didn’t know about her.

  “Are you certain you didn’t train with the FBI?” Rayna smiled. “You’d make one hell of a profiler.”

  Lara laughed. She had heard this before. Lara’s degree was in psychology with a minor in criminal justice. She had known from the time she was twelve what she wanted to do. She wanted to dissect criminals, particularly those who murdered.

  Did that make her strange? No question. She’d had few friends as a child because of this somewhat out of the ordinary fixation. Terry Wilson was one of the few who hadn’t considered her on the scary side.

  “I did not, but I have spent a great deal of time dissecting killers.”

  Rayna bit her lip, worry lining her face. “I’m sure you’re concerned that he’ll show up in your life.”

  Lara hadn’t voiced this worry to Nate or even to herself. Thankfully she hadn’t received any more odd emails or text messages. Anyone could have finagled her cell phone number. Hard as she tried to protect her personal information there was always some relentless person who would discover her address or phone number. Quite regularly she received strange emails; it was the nature of the beast. The timing on these latest ones was the part that raised alarm bells.

  “Since I learned the news…what? Three or four hours ago?” She sighed. “Yes, the idea has crossed my mind.”

  “I’m certain you’ve also pondered the possibility that he may have known about you all along. If that’s the case, you might not hear from him. He hasn’t contacted you before, why would he do so now?”

  “But,” Lara countered, “if he didn’t know, his curiosity may get the better of him.”

  “Which is why Agent Decker’s primary concern is your safety,” Rayna said. “He’s torn between being loyal to the Bureau and to you. The two of you have been friends for a long while.”

  “In a long-distance sort of way, yes,” Lara qualified. Evidently Terry had briefed his wife thoroughly.

  “Terry thinks the FBI will want to use you as bait to lure in the Butcher.”

  “I think that’s the plan.” Lara reminded herself again that she was good with this plan. “I’m certain they’ll want to release the information about the DNA link and that’s fine by me. If I can help bring him down, I would like very much to do so.”

  “The notoriety would be good for your blog,” Rayna pointed out.

  And the book, Lara kept to herself—assuming she ever finished it. “Unquestionably. But mostly, I’m curious. How did my mother meet and get involved with a killer? If he’s my father, who was the man who died as a soldier fighting in the Middle East? Or did he fake his death? Maybe put his dog tags on another man’s body—one he perhaps murdered.”

  Rayna paused in her work of adding ice to the glasses. “I can see you don’t need me to psychoanalyze you.”

  Lara laughed out loud at this. “Trust me, I’ve done enough of that in the past few hours for several lifetimes.”

  “I can see how you might.”

  Lara hesitated but then decided to go for it. “My father—at least the man I always believed to be my father—is buried in Maple Ridge. His services were conducted at Capshaw’s. Do you think there’s any chance records from so long ago might still be available? Photos maybe?”

  “It’s possible,” Rayna offered. “Capshaw’s is locally owned and operated. The family has lived in Maple Ridge for as long as I can remember. In my line of work, I’m acquainted with a good number of funeral directors, including Greg Capshaw. I can certainly ask him.”

  “I would really appreciate it.”

  “I’m happy to help.” Rayna smiled. “Let’s call the guys. We should eat and allow all this to digest.”

  Gathered around the Wilson family table listening to the men share war stories about their work, Lara studied Nate. So many times she had wondered what the man behind the phone voice and the emails and texts was really like. She knew basically all there was to know about him—at least what was available in the public domain. He had shared plenty about his private life with her just as she had with him.

  He’d married his high school sweetheart and then divorced after barely four years. No long-term relationships since. Lara supposed their device-driven relationship was the longest for either of them.

  He was as kind and charming in person as he was on the phone. The good looks were no surprise either. The two things she hadn’t fully anticipated were just how tall he was and how good he smelled.

  Lara blinked. Not exactly the time to be thinking about his scent.

  Then again, anything was better than obsessing on the idea that she was apparently the daughter of a serial killer.

  How could she not have known this?

  Suddenly, in the middle of the Davidson County Chief Deputy’s dining room, she felt as if she’d fallen into a rabbit hole.

  Who was she really? Why had her mother never told her the truth? Had her mother known the truth?

  Was DNA the reason she had always been so fascinated by murder?

  The idea made her sick to her stomach.

  “I know this is overwhelming.”

  Lara glanced at the man behind the wheel as they drove along Miller’s Bend Road headed back to her little cottage—the place at which she’d felt so peaceful all these months. “It’ll take me a minute to adjust.”

  He smiled.

  His profile was strong. Something else to appreciate about the man. Maybe allowing her secret fantasies to take the lead just now was better than obsessing over her shared genetics with a heinous killer.

  “You know,” she said, facing forward, “I’m really glad we finally had the opportunity to meet—circumstances notwithstanding.”

  “I agree. We should have done this years ago.”

  Years. It didn’t seem possible, but they had been friends for years. Lara felt as if she knew him as well or better than she did anyone else in her life and they’d never met until today. She rolled her eyes at the thought. The scenario sounded like a reality show episode. Just another aspect of her chosen career. She had many “online” friends with whom she had interacted for years without ever meeting.

  Modern life, she mused.

  But this was her life.

  As much as she loved researching cases, being on the other side of the story wasn’t so thrilling. So much for distraction. She was hurtling back toward reality, leaving her little fantasy in the dust.

  This wasn’t some other person—some poor victim—this was her.

  And no matter how she looked at it, she was a victim now.

  Of course, she didn’t have to do a segment on this new angle in her life but there would be no way of concealing the news once the FBI decided to make it all public. She could remain anonymous, but some savvy hack would dig until he found the truth. Why shouldn’t she capitalize on the reality? It was hers, after all. She had the inside story. The scoop.

  Not to mention, her followers were expecting to hear about her experience with Find Me. Day after tomorrow, in fact. What other choice did she have but to share this bizarre truth?

  None.

  If she backed out because it was painful, she would be seen as a coward.

  “The surveillance has started,” Nate said, drawing her attention back to him. “With help from the local authorities, someone will be watching your home or wherever you are around the clock.”

  Did this mean he was leaving now or tomorrow? She really wanted him to stay. To be a part of her security until—God, she had no idea when this would be over.

  “Have you spoken to whoever’s in charge about my request that you remain a part of my security detail?” It likely wasn’t smart for her to grow too accustomed to having him around. At some point, probably sooner than later, he would return to D.C. It could be several years before they saw each other again.

  No matter that her life was unraveling around her, she couldn’t help feeling disappointed at the prospect.

  “I have. I’m waiting for word on whether my request will be approved.”

  Okay. So maybe he would be around for a while. Her pulse reacted to the idea.

  He turned onto the drive that wound through the trees to her cottage. A glance in the rearview mirror revealed a vehicle not far behind them.

  “That’s Agent McIntosh from Nashville. He’s first up on surveillance detail.”

  Lara glanced over her shoulder as they parked. McIntosh parked and gave her a little wave. She’d have to remember to offer him coffee or hot chocolate later.

  The sound of Nate’s door closing snapped her attention forward once more. She opened her door and joined him at the front of his rental car. The sun was shining but it was still cold.

  As she approached the back porch her gaze lit on a bundle lying in front of the door. She frowned. What on earth?

  “Stay here.”

  Nate halted her forward movement with a hand on her arm, then he hustled up to the porch.

  Lara held her breath as he leaned down and inspected the bundle. He reached for the package and lifted it.

  Flowers.

  A large bouquet of colorful blooms.

  When Nate’s gaze shifted to her, she understood the flowers were probably not from a friend. Her heart sank.

  The other agent, McIntosh, walked past her, headed for the porch.

  Forcing one foot in front of the other, she followed his path. The brown paper wrapping revealed Lilacs, daffodils and tulips arranged in a burlap ribbon. A small white envelope was tucked beneath the edge of the ribbon.

  McIntosh had donned gloves by the time he reached Nate.